


And You May Ask Yourself

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy's never actually lived in a nice place before. He's always had cheap apartments with a couple roommates and shitty landlords. So when he lands a post-doc fellowship in a quiet university town, he's not really prepared for some engineering prof to offer him a nice apartment, the second floor of the place he rents to his daughter. Bellamy is still waiting for the catch.





	And You May Ask Yourself

It's probably fucked up and psychologically questionable that the most uncomfortable Bellamy has ever felt living a place is when he moves into a _nice_ town. But he's used to cities, and not even the _good_ parts of cities. He's never know anything but shitty landlords and thin walls and pest infestations. That's where he grew up, and he didn't _like it_ , but he understood. He knew what was going on. A quiet neighborhood with no crime rate and cute little rows of houses feels like a total trap.

But he finishes up grad school and gets hired for a post-doc fellowship in a mid-sized university town, so that's where he's going. It feels like he's living on a TV set for some quaint family drama, one where he got cast in response to criticisms about a lack of diversity. It feels like a trap.

His landlord is a physics professor, Jake Griffin, and he's there waiting for Bellamy when he drives up. They'd only spoken on the phone, but Jake had warned him he'd be at the house to greet him, so he doesn't think there's just a random white guy hanging out, waiting to intimidate him on his first day. So that's something. Jake offers his hand and a warm grin, and Bellamy tries not to feel paranoid about the whole thing. This is probably normal. His other landlords, with their (at best) total lack of interest or (at worst) outright hostility, they were the weird ones. Jake isn't a career slumlord, like Bellamy grew up with. He's just a guy who owns some property that he rents to grad students, post-docs, and other academics in need. It makes sense that he wants to meet them.

"It's Bellamy, right?" asks Jake.

"Yes. Nice to meet you, Professor Griffin."

He grins. "Jake is fine. You said you were living alone, so I thought you might need some help moving in. I'm not as good for heavy lifting as I used to be, but I'm better than nothing. My daughter and her friend were going to help out too, but they got held up. She lives on the first floor, by the way."

It's a lot of new information, and Bellamy tries not to show how overwhelming he finds it. His success is probably limited, but Jake doesn't call him out on it. "Yeah, that's great," he says. "I don't have anything too big, but any help you can give me would be great."

"Well, why don't we grab a few boxes and I'll show you the place?"

Bellamy had already seen pictures, of course, and it looks about as he expected. Like all apartments he's ever had, it looks bigger without any stuff in it, but it has hardwood floors and tons of windows and the nicest kitchen Bellamy's ever seen. Even the shower looks out of his price range. And he's going to have a _spare bedroom_ , for less than he paid to share with two other people when he was in grad school.

"It's a little late to back out now," Jake says. "But does everything look okay?"

"Yeah," says Bellamy. It feels like an overstatement and an understatement all at once. "Everything looks great."

*

It's not just the town itself that takes some getting used to. He feels pretty comfortable on the job, at least; after college and grad school, he's basically used to academia in all its weirdness, and while he doesn't like everyone in the history department, he likes everyone he works with regularly. He has a few months to prepare before he's dealing with students, and he thinks he's going to be good at that part of it, too. When he's on campus, he's in his element.

But then he goes home, and it's weird again, because he's never lived _alone_ before. He'd always thought he'd like it, if he got the chance to try it, and in many ways he does. He appreciates being fully responsible for the state of his own place, to not have to feel annoyed that his roommates aren't cleaning up after themselves or being respectful. And he's not really lonely, but he does feel a little isolated, even with all his stuff unpacked and set up, the place feels kind of empty.

Which is why he starts ordering weird home goods from Amazon and gets a cat.

Both decisions feel fairly monumental at the time. Spending money on things he doesn't need has always been hard for him, and non-functional things especially feel like a waste. And he's never had a pet before, hasn't ever really thought about it. But he's settled in here for at least the next few years, and he feels like he's capable of owning and caring for a cat. He did some reading online; it really doesn't seem that hard.

He emails Jake just to make sure it's okay--his lease said pets were allowed, but he also said he didn't have any, so it seems safest to just double-check, and of course, Jake tells him it's fine, and even sends him the website for his favorite no-kill shelter as a recommendation for where to _get_ a cat, and then adds, _I'm CC'ing Clarke on this, I know she was thinking about adopting too. Just in case you want to go together_.

Bellamy stares at Jake's daughter's email address for a few minutes, not sure what to do with it. He hasn't met his downstairs neighbor yet, but he can see why she might want to come with him to the animal shelter. She doesn't seem to have a car, just gets around on a bicycle that he sees parked outside in the evenings, and from what he can tell based on the sounds he hears beneath him and the pattern of lights in her window, she keeps kind of a weird schedule. But she has a university email and is his creepily nice landlord's daughter, so Bellamy figures there's no harm in reaching out.

He takes Jake off the message chain and writes, _I was going to go sometime on Saturday, but I'm pretty flexible. If you're interested let me know and we can probably figure something out._

It is a completely normal, unobjectionable, and polite email. He thinks if it was any warmer or more enthusiastic, it would be weird, given he has never met her and knows nothing about her. And even if she is as friendly as her father is, Jake never seems put off by Bellamy's relative brusqueness, so--

Whatever. It's fine. He is overthinking literally everything about his life, all the time, and he needs to stop. This is not a trap. Jake Griffin is not testing him and planning to murder him when he inevitably fails.

He sends the email and goes to check to see if the pillows he ordered for his guest room have come yet.

*

Clarke Griffin writes back that afternoon to say that she's not convinced she's going to get a cat, but would be interested in going to the shelter to see if any catch her eye or, failing that, if the shelter will just let her pet a kitten for a while, which seems like a completely reasonable way to feel about the whole thing. And she also says Saturday works for her, so they arrange to go after lunch, and that's the end of it. Bellamy doesn't know what he was worrying about, except that he is, fundamentally, a paranoid and kind of pessimistic person, and his life has been going incredibly well since he landed this job. He had been prepared for years of unemployment hell, and now he is set up for a fucking _tenure track position_ at a great school in a pretty nice (if unfortunately white) place. Even with his student loans, he's financially solvent and actually starting to accumulate _savings_.

So an anvil is definitely going to fall out of the sky and crush him any day now. There's no other explanation.

Said paranoia and pessimism are probably why it feels so catastrophic when he discovers he accidentally stole one of Clarke's packages, even though every rational part of his brain knows that it is not actually a big deal. He's been piling up all his packages over the course of the week to be dealt with over the weekend when he's free, and he swears he checked every one to make sure they were all for him before he brought them in, but the third one he opens up on Saturday morning has an electric kettle in it, and it's definitely not anything he ordered.

He checks the box, figuring that maybe his sister or Miller decided to send a housewarming present, but instead he finds a gift receipt that says the delivery is for Clarke Griffin, and it arrived a week ago.

It really is not a big deal. Especially since he's about to meet her. He can just bring the kettle downstairs with him, explain what happened, and apologize. If she knew it was coming and was actually worried about it, she probably would have asked him if he'd seen it. It's been a week, after all. She probably didn't even know the package was coming, and she'll be happy to have it now that it has.

Still, there's a part of him that feels like _mail fraud_ really isn't the best first impression. Even minor, understandable mail fraud.

He's being an idiot. He has to work on it.

The rest of the morning is spent unpacking the rest of his boxes, all of which are thankfully for him, and occasionally looking over at the kettle with a mixture of anxiety and resentment. 

It's such a _normal_ thing to have to explain. _Hey, sorry, I accidentally grabbed this box of yours, and also nice to meet you_. It's all he needs to say. He doesn't have to explain why it took him so long to notice; if she asks, he can tell her, but she probably won't care.

It's not a big deal, and he'll be fine, and he goes on believing both of those things right up until he steps into the stairwell and gets his first look at Clarke Griffin.

She's sitting in her doorway, doing something on her phone, and she's really, really pretty, all wavy blonde hair and curves. Her lip is trapped in her teeth, and she's wearing shorts with clunky boots, showing off miles of perfect, smooth legs.

She glances up at the sound of his door and smiles, and all the words fall out of his head, and the first thing he says to his landlord's daughter is, "I stole your kettle."

Clarke cocks her head in confusion, and he half-stumbles down the stairs.

Once he gets to the bottom, he offers the box. "I, uh--I've been getting a bunch of stuff shipped, I picked this up thinking it was mine and then I just left it in a pile with my other boxes and--sorry. I'm Bellamy, by the way."

Her bewilderment has melted into amusement, and by the time he's done, she's actually smiling, so he lets himself smile back.

"Hi, Bellamy. I'm Clarke. I did not know I had a kettle to steal, but my mom did mention she was sending something, so--I think you stole a present from my mom."

"Wow," he says. "Well, uh, in my defense, I also _returned_ a present from your mom."

She laughs. "You did. Thanks." She stands, and he finds she's just about Octavia's height, and her eyes are very blue. "I'll just drop it off inside and then I'm ready to go. You?"

"Yeah, all set."

It's July, hot enough that it has him worrying about the inevitable end of the world due to global warming, and Clarke pulls on a pair of shades that really do it for him. She's kind of stupidly pretty, and he's already a mess about it.

"So, where are you from?" she asks, once he's got his phone set up and navigating them to the animal shelter.

"I grew up in DC. College in Virginia, grad school in Boston. Are you guys from around here?"

She shakes her head. "California. But Dad convinced me to come here for grad school."

"What are you studying?"

"Art history. You're post-doc, right?"

"History fellow, yeah. If everything goes right, I'm on the tenure track."

"That's awesome."

He laughs. "Yeah, uh, honestly, I still can't quite believe it. At some point I'm going to wake up and find out my life doesn't get to be this awesome."

"I can see that. I'm already worried about figuring out what to do with my degree."

"Do you want to teach?"

"I don't think so," she says. "I don't hate it, but--I think you should love it, you know? I don't want to be a teacher just because I've seen how much time off my dad gets."

He laughs. "Yeah, once you get tenured, academia is pretty sweet."

"Except for all the weird bullshit, yeah."

"Except for that," he agrees, and they share a smile.

Clarke settles more comfortably into shotgun, adjusting her sunglasses. "So, post-doc, history, just moved here. And you want a cat?"

"I don't have roommates, so I might as well get some company, right?"

"That's one way of looking at it, yeah."

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. On the one hand, she's a stranger. On the other, she's friendly, and he's craving both validation and human interaction.

And she's cute, and he wants her to like him. He thinks she finds his ineptitude kind of endearing.

"I've never had a pet before, but now seems like a good time, I guess. I'm young and financially solvent, so the sky's the limit, right?"

"And the limit is a cat."

"I've also been buying a lot of weird stuff on Amazon."

"I was wondering about that," she muses. "But I figured new place, you probably needed to order a lot of stuff."

"That's my excuse, yeah. I've never had a guest room before, so that's exciting."

"So, you have financial and person freedom for the first time ever, and you're cutting loose by getting a cat and decorating your spare room."

"Yeah, well, when you put it like that, I sound really pathetic," he says, without any heat.

"It sounds nice," says Clarke, with a soft wistfulness that makes him glance over. There's a smile playing on her lips, and he finds he actually believes her.

"What about you?" he asks. "Why do you want a cat?"

"Mostly the same reason you do. But--" She considers, looks at his phone to check their ETA. "How much backstory do you want?"

"Now? All of it. How much backstory can there be to getting a cat?"

"So, my parents got divorced when I was ten, and my mom got custody. And I was pretty pissed because we moved across the country and away from my dad and all my friends, so she got a me a kitten. Which didn't really fix it, but--I loved that cat. I couldn't take him to college with me, though, and then my apartment didn't let me have pets, and I felt weird getting another cat when I already had one, even if he didn't live with me, so--" She shrugs. "Yeah. He died a few months ago, so--I'm trying to figure out if I'm ready."

"Huh," he says. "Yeah, I can see that."

"It's not really like--" Her smile is crooked. "I'm not mourning or anything, but I've never had my own cat before either. So it feels like a big step."

"Cool. We can enable each other."

"I was going to go with support," she says, and he grins.

"Yeah, same difference."

*

The guy at the shelter leads them in to see the cats, and it's honestly pretty intimidating. There are _a lot_ of cats, of all sizes and colors and ages. Well, not _all_ ages, there aren't any tiny kittens, but there are clearly some juveniles.

"If you're looking to get a pair, we have a few who'd prefer not to be separated," says the guy.

Clarke glances at Bellamy. "How not separated?" she asks. 

The kid looks confused, so Bellamy adds, "We're housemates. She has the first floor, I have the second. So we were planning to get a cat each, but if there was a pair we could probably just leave the doors open sometimes or something."

"Oh," he says. He probably thought they were a couple, which is understandable. They did come in to adopt a cat together. "We actually do have some juveniles who might be a good fit for the two of you. They're friendly with each other, but I think they'd both appreciate having their own space."

It's Bellamy's turn to look at Clarke, raising his eyebrows. Somehow, he already knows exactly what the half smile and incline of her head means.

"Can we see them?" he asks the shelter guy, and he smiles.

The cats are about six months old, sisters. According to the shelter kid, Myles, some guy got them for his boyfriend for their anniversary, and they hadn't known he was allergic to cats. They're orange and white with green eyes, and when Bellamy reaches out, one of them comes over to butt her head against his fingers.

"So, that one's yours," Clarke says.

"You think?"

"You can pick her up, if you want," says Myles. "That's Butterscotch and the other is Creamsicle."

Bellamy isn't wild about the names, but they can always change those. He reaches out, careful, and lifts her out of the cage. "Hey," he murmurs, feeling her tremble. "Hey, it's okay. Hi. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."

In the cage, Creamsicle is sniffing at Clarke, curious, and it feels like a done deal already. They're not _kittens_ , or not entirely kittens, but they seem to be in the awkward puberty stage of cathood. Bellamy is completely charmed.

"This one's mine," he tells Clarke. "Is that one yours?"

The cat is leaning into Clarke's hand as Clarke scratches her ears, and Clarke has this tiny smile playing on her face.

"This one's mine, yeah."

*

The cats are not thrilled about being in the car, but it seems like a bad idea to try to set them up without litter boxes, so they go to the store and pick up the bare necessities--food and litter--and one pack of catnip mice, as a compromise.

"We're going to get more toys later," Clarke promises.

"Yeah, but they're going to be bored _now_ ," he shoots back.

"How much of your paycheck every week is going to go into cat toys?"

"I actually get paid every other week," he says, and she laughs.

"Good answer." 

He doesn't realize how remarkably non-awkward he's feeling about the entire thing until they get back, and Clarke opens up her door and he sees the electric kettle on her table and remembers that he didn't even _know her_ this morning, and now he's kind of adopted two cats with her.

"So, your place or mine?" Clarke asks, and he nearly chokes.

"What?"

"Are we supposed to acclimate them together or separately?"

"Oh, uh--probably separately. So they know, you know. Where home is." He wets his lips. "But I'll probably leave my door open, so you can yell if there's a problem. And I figure they'll want to explore eventually."

"Yeah, that's probably right."

She sounds nervous, and he smiles. "Seriously, just yell. I'll hear you."

"Same for you," she says, and picks up the carrier. "Okay, come on--" Her face scrunches up. "Honestly, I don't think there's any way I can call her Creamsicle."

"Yeah, definitely not. I'm not sticking with Butterscotch either."

"Do you have another name in mind?"

He climbs to the top of the stairs and puts the carrier down, facing the door, and releases the cat into the apartment. But he stays sitting on the stairs himself, so he can keep talking to Clarke. "Probably something classical," he says, watching as the cat pads out of her carrier to check out his apartment. "I like classical names."

"Just in general?" he hears, distant enough he assumes she's also letting her cat out.

"My mom let me name my sister. That was my last real experience with it."

"What did you name her?"

"Octavia."

There's a pause, and then she asks, "How much does she hate you?"

"Depends on the day." He flops onto his back on the floor, stretching. "My mom's name was Aurora, so I honestly don't know why O thought she'd be better off with Mom naming her. No one in our family has a normal name."

"So, do you have any nice, abnormal classical names for cats?"

"Am I supposed to name your cat now too?"

"Just if you have a good one."

He sits up so he can find his cat again. She's still sniffing around his living room, curious. She's more orange than white, and she's _adorable_. "I'm calling mine Sphinx," he says.

"That's nice." She pauses. "The only other part-cat monsters I know are griffins, and I think that would get confusing."

"Chimera?" he suggests.

Another pause, longer this time. "Yeah, I like that. What do you think? Chimera is a lot better than Creamsicle, right?"

There's no response, of course, but Clarke is undeterred.

"Yeah," she says. "I think so too."

*

The rest of the day is the same kind of low-key weird. He gets off the stairs and goes into his actual apartment to watch the cat acclimate, leaving the door open as promised so he can hear Clarke if she calls for him. He sets up the litter box and shows Sphinx where it is, and does the same for food and water, and then takes a bunch of pictures of her exploring to send to his sister and Miller, in the hopes of coaxing them out to visit him. He might not be that exciting by himself, but he _does_ have a cat now.

And she seems like a good cat, as far as he can tell. He leaves her to explore the apartment to her heart's content while he goes back to working on setting up the guest room, and she comes in to join him in no time at all, jumping in boxes and pouncing on packing materials and running around like she's the happiest cat in the entire world.

She was also enjoying the catnip mouse, so he figures there are decent odds she's high as a kite too.

By the time the room is done, it's almost six, and he's tired and kind of sweaty and in no mood to cook, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to go downstairs and knock on Clarke's doorjamb.

Then his brain catches up and the awkwardness sets in.

But Clarke calls, "Yeah, come in!" and he figures she probably wouldn't have adopted a cat that wants to hang out with his cat if she didn't want to see him sometimes.

Her apartment layout is basically the same as his, although hers feels a lot more lived in. Which makes sense, of course, since she's lived here longer, but he doesn't think it's just that. She has a cohesive theme for her furniture, and there's a table with matching chairs and all this nice, framed art on the walls.

Maybe he should get some decorating tips from her. He can use all the help he can get.

She's sitting on the floor of what seems to be her bedroom, getting Chimera to pounce on a piece of fabric as she wiggles it, and she smiles when she sees him.

"How's the cat?" she asks.

"Seems good. I was still unpacking shit so she's in cardboard box heaven."

"I bet."

"Yeah, I can bring some down if you want."

Her smile is just a little too amused. "I think the one from the kettle is probably enough."

He scowls, reflexive, and she grins. Sharing a joke.

"Was that it?" she prompts.

"Oh, no. I'm hungry, I was thinking about ordering a pizza? But I don't know any good places. Do you have any suggestions? Want in?"

"What do you like on your pizza?"

"Basically anything."

"Then, yeah, I want in." She stands and stretches, and he doesn't check her out while she does it. They can be friends even if she's pretty. He's friends with tons of attractive people. He has a really hot friend group. They're just not here. "I like Linetti's, they do this awesome three-cheese with spinach and garlic."

"That sounds great, yeah."

"How hungry are you?"

"Uh, normal amount, I guess? I'll probably eat, like, a third of a large pizza. Over the course of the night. And I like leftovers."

"Cool. I'm getting cannoli too."

Sphinx gets curious about where her human went while Clarke is placing the order, so she finds them in Clarke's room, and she and Chimera seem both delighted and a little suspicious about their reunion. But Clarke gets the fabric strip back and tells Bellamy to find something on Netflix, and they have a nice, relaxed evening on Clarke's couch, eating pizza and yelling at _Chopped_.

She sends him back upstairs with the leftover pizza, two cannolis, and his cat.

"I think I'll just leave my door open when I'm awake and home?" she offers. "So you and Sphinx are welcome whenever."

His mouth goes strangely dry at the offer. But he recovers fast. "Cool," he says. "I'll do that too."

"Cool," she says, and just like that, Bellamy's made his first new friend.

*

The next day, they go back to the pet store, and get way more stuff than they really need, probably. Considering how happy Sphinx was with just the boxes, he's not really convinced that she needs many toys. But all the carpeted climbing structures look really cool, and he definitely doesn't want her scratching all his furniture, so he needs to give her some alternatives. And plants are nice, so if she's really supposed to eat grass, he can try to maintain some for her.

"Seriously, you're going to bankrupt yourself in a month, right?"

"I'm sure the government will understand why I'm defaulting on my student loans when I send them pictures of her," he says. "You're getting stuff too."

"Yeah, but I'm independently wealthy."

"Really?"

She shrugs, clearly a little embarrassed. "My dad is a tenured professor, that pays pretty well. My mom comes from money. I don't have a vast personal fortune or anything, but--I don't worry about money. If I don't get a job or can't make rent, I know they'll cover me." She casts him a sidelong glance. "Of course, you get that too, now."

"I do?"

"If you're ever having trouble, my dad will definitely work with you. He bought the place so he could rent it out to struggling grad students and new faculty members."

"Altruistic of him." For a second, he hesitates, but he's curious and she seems pretty open about the whole thing. "I was kind of wondering. He seems really--friendly."

She grins. "Yeah, it's weird, right?"

"Incredibly."

"He's not going to harvest your organs or anything."

"You say that, but that's a pretty specific thing that he's not going to do."

"He had a grad student with a wife and a baby who was having trouble finding a place to live that was cheap enough a couple years ago. My dad did the math and figured he was always going to be able to sell at a good rate if he wanted to, and he likes having an excuse to get to know people. I don't get it either," she adds, with a quick grin. "I hate getting to know people."

"Which explains why you're hanging out with your weird neighbor at a pet store," he says.

"You're really not that weird. And you did help me get a cat. That balances out stealing my kettle."

"It was an _accident_ ," he grumbles, and she just grins wider. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"

"Not as long as you keep making that face when I bring it up," she says. 

That makes him smile too. "Yeah, okay. You got everything?"

"Yup, all set."

With all their official business concluded, Bellamy's not sure how much more he'll actually _see_ Clarke. Her door is usually open when he gets home, and he'll yell, "Hey, Clarke!" when he gets in. Half the time, Chimera will bound out to say hi to him, and he'll give her a quick scratch behind the ears before going upstairs to greet his own cat. He'll leave his door open, but since he's on the couch, Sphinx tends to prefer cuddling up next to him and getting all the attention she's been missing out on during his absence, at least at first. By the time he's making dinner, the novelty has worn off, and she'll wander off to explore the parts of the house she can't access when he's home. Bellamy will go down Clarke's apartment if he can't find the cat when he's ready for bed, or Clarke will bring her up if she's going to sleep first. 

He still doesn't really know how to ask if she wants to hang out more, but he thinks he probably _will_ figure it out. He's made friends before. It just feels like he forgot how.

"Have I always been this awkward?" he asks Miller. They're skyping, and he's not sold on the idea yet. But the cat keeps walking in front of the camera, which Miller enjoys. And it's kind of nice to actually see him.

"Pretty much," Miller says. 

"Fuck you. I didn't always feel this awkward."

Because he's secretly a good friend, Miller thinks it over. "You're not this awkward at work, right?" he finally asks.

"Not really."

"You're fine when you know how to interact. But neighbors are basically uncharted territory for you. Which, dude, they're just people, but whatever. I'm not surprised this is an issue for you. Besides, they're rich, right?"

"Yeah."

"You definitely feel awkward with rich people all the time."

"It's not that kind of awkward with Clarke," he says, which is true, but doesn't actually make him feel that much better. "I mostly can't decide if she'd be okay with me hitting on her or not."

"Oh, yeah, you fucking suck at crushes," he says. "That's not new either."

"Great, thanks. Do you have anything helpful to say?"

"Did you think I would?"

"Yeah, not even a little." He sighs. "I'll go find the cat. We can talk about her instead."

"Sounds about right." But he is, again, secretly a good friend, because he adds, "Just come up with something she might want to do with you. A movie or something. Break the ice. Seriously, this is all so normal. She's not going to be freaked out."

"No, that's just me," he agrees. "Thanks for the help, Miller."

"Yeah, yeah. Go get the cat."

After that, he sort of half-heartedly pays attention to what movies are coming out soon, but none of them really scream _Clarke_ to him. Which is weird all by itself, because he and Clarke don't actually know each other, and he is absolutely not any kind of expert on what she does and does not like.

He still feels pretty sure about it.

And then, two weeks later on Saturday morning, an opportunity presents itself.

Usually, when Bellamy goes to the store, Clarke is either already gone or not awake yet, but this morning as he heads out, her door is open, and he debates with himself for only a minute before he knocks on the frame.

"Yeah?" she calls.

"I'm going to the store, you need anything?" 

There's a pause, and then she sticks her head out of her bedroom. She's wearing a ribbed white tanktop with no bra, which he just knows because the strap is falling down her shoulder, displaying nothing but smooth flesh. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she's wearing a pair of crooked glasses.

It takes him a second to realize she said something.

"What?"

"Can I come with you?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."

"Cool, just give me, like, five minutes."

Her door closes, and he kneels down to scratch Chimera's ears so he won't think about how Clarke is in her room, getting undressed. She's getting redressed right after, so it's not even particularly hot. 

Also they're barely even friends, so he shouldn't be thinking about her naked.

When she emerges from the room, her hair is loose again, and she's wearing a light sundress pattered with what appears to be rainbow wagon wheels. She's still wearing her glasses, which is cute. They are definitely going to look like a really annoying hipster couple at the store. At least she doesn't have the chunky black frames like he does.

"Thanks for the ride," she says. "I usually go on my bike, but I was busy this week."

"What do you do, anyway?" he asks. "Summer classes?"

"I'm teaching art in like five different places," she says, with a half smile. "It's pretty hectic."

"I didn't know there were that many places that needed summer art teachers."

She counts off on her fingers. "Camp Wachusett Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Camp Juniper Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, the university daycare every weekday morning, the university art museum Saturday morning, and the contemporary art museum on Sunday morning."

"Jesus."

"I like to keep busy. And most of it's just an hour or two at a time."

"So why aren't you teaching today?"

"They have a new exhibit opening, and all this special programming for it. It's Japanese art, so they brought someone in to do calligraphy." She pauses. "It seems pretty cool. I'm going to check it out with some friends of mine later, if you want to come."

There's something about her tone and careful posture that makes him think she was planning to ask this already, before he showed up. That she was going to come up and invite him along when she left, like he did with the store.

Friendship. It's a mutual thing.

"What time?" he asks.

"We're meeting at two."

He gets the car unlocked and Clarke slides into shotgun. He kind of likes how natural he feels there, how she feels like she belongs by his side. 

"Are your friends from your grad program?" he asks.

"Not really." She worries her lip. "Monty's in IT. Raven and I were dating the same guy without realizing it. Niylah is my kind of ex-girlfriend."

"Kind of?"

"We didn't quite _date_ , but we slept together enough times I feel bad calling her a fling. And I'm bisexual, by the way," she adds, giving him a quick, slightly tense smile.

"Cool. I'm pan."

The relief is instantaneous and obvious, and Bellamy gets that. He doesn't come out that much, but it always feels like this strange game of Russian roulette. It hasn't gone wrong yet, but it feels like he must be getting closer and closer to the chamber that will fuck him over.

"So how were you and Raven dating the same guy without knowing it?" he asks, and the explanation of that clusterfuck gets them through to the grocery store.

Which is when he discovers that Clarke doesn't cook.

"How do you not cook?" he asks. He's a little bit impressed. In a horrified way.

"It's really not hard," says Clarke. "It's a lot harder to cook than not to cook. Not cooking is really easy."

"But what do you _eat_?" he asks.

"Takeout, prepared meals, I have, like, two recipes I'm good at--" He's still staring at her in vague horror, and she flushes. "Not everyone is good at cooking!"

"Well, you're not going to good unless you practice," he says, gruff. "You're usually done by dinner time, right? With all your weird shit."

"It's called _a job_ ," she says, smiling. "But yeah, I'm usually done by six and home by seven or so. Why?"

"Because you can come upstairs and _learn to cook_ ," he says. He puts a bag of rice in her cart. "You pay for that, we share it."

She's still smiling, even more now. He's trying not to feel too goofy about it. "You're going to give me cooking lessons?" she asks.

"Apparently you need them," he huffs, and she grins wider.

"Apparently I do."

It doesn't feel like a huge deal, and it is, genuinely, the kind of thing he'd do for anyone, but when they get to the museum and Clarke spots her friends, she introduces him with, "This is Bellamy. He lives upstairs and he's going to give me cooking lessons.

"Cooking lessons?" asks one of the girls. She's got long, dark hair in a tight pony tail, and she's looking him over like she can't decide if she's impressed or not.

"She doesn't know how to cook," he says. "It's a public service."

"If it's public, can anyone join?" asks the guy. Bellamy isn't sure which girl is Raven and which is Niylah, but this must be Monty. "Or is it just Clarke? If it's just for Clarke, it's not really a public service."

"It's probably a net good for the universe," says the dark-haired girl. "Karma or whatever." She looks Bellamy up and down once more, and then offers her hand. "I'm Raven, this is Niylah and Monty. Why did you move to the middle of nowhere?"

"They're paying me," he says, and Raven grins.

The four of them give him a crash course on the town, points of interest and places he can go to socialize, if he's into that. Which, okay, he mostly isn't, but it's nice of them to think he might be. 

And they all seem to be at about his level of socialization, which helps too. Monty and Raven play a lot of Overwatch and want to add him to their Playstation networks, and Niylah works at an antique store and considers that to be meeting her socialization quota all on its own.

For all he knows her best, in theory, Clarke is the one he can't really get a read on. She seems to have just put them all together somehow, and it's not really clear to him how. Failed relationships for Raven and Niylah, her own incredible ineptitude with technology for Monty, and--proximity, for him.

But she keeps smiling at him, and lagging behind the rest of the group to point things out to him, and once they get home she follows him upstairs so he can teach her how to cook, so proximity seems to be enough.

Which is fine with him, honestly. It's not like he's planning to leave any time soon.

*

A week later, he accidentally steals another one of Clarke's packages. He's on the phone with his sister when he gets in, and he's expecting a package, and Chimera is in the entryway, whining and hoping Bellamy is going to feed her, so it's easy to just jam the phone against his shoulder, pick up the box in one arm and the cat in the other, and then realize when he gets to the top of the stairs that he has to put something down to unlock his door.

"One sec," he tells Octavia, and manages to juggle the cat and the box into one arm and get the door open with his other. Chimera squirms out of his grasp to go see if she can steal Sphinx's food, which she can't, and Bellamy puts the package down and then says, without thinking, "Shit, this is Clarke's."

"What?" asks Octavia.

"I accidentally grabbed my neighbor's package again."

There's a long pause, during which he realizes, with sinking horror, exactly where this is going. And his sister does not disappoint.

"Oh, _accidentally_. Sure, Bell. Does Clarke have a _nice_ package? Is it large? Fragile? I bet you handle it with care, huh?"

"How disappointed are you going to be when I tell you Clarke is a girl?"

"Mildly," she says, but she still sounds cheerful. "How did you accidentally grab her package? How often does that happen?"

"Just one. It was in our entryway. Honest mistake." 

Both cats are now circling his feet, mewling and hoping he's going to feed them, which doesn't even make _sense_. Clarke's door was open, Chimera should be bugging her for food. 

Most of his focus is on not either tripping over or stepping on either of them, which is why he isn't thinking about his conversation with Octavia, and why he adds, without really realizing the implications, "It's no big deal. I'll just give it to her at dinner."

The instant the words are out of his mouth, he knows he fucked up. Not telling O about Clarke has been a deliberate choice. He has, over and over, deliberately and consciously _not_ told Octavia about Clarke, because he knew she'd make a big deal about her and he didn't want to deal with that.

And now, of course, she knows about Clarke, and, even worse, she's going to figure out that Bellamy has been Not Talking About Clarke. It would have been fine, if he just brought her up right away. But he couldn't, because she _is_ important. And now Octavia knows.

"You guys are having _dinner_?" she asks.

"She can't cook. I'm teaching her."

There's a long pause, and then she says, "What's her last name?"

"What?"

"Your neighbor. What's her last name?"

"Why?" he asks, wary.

"Because I want to Facebook stalk her, duh. I don't see her on your friends list or anything. You know you only have, like, fifty Facebook friends, right? That's seriously pathetic, Bell."

"Yeah, it keeps me up at night. You know not everyone thinks Facebook is actually an important part of life, right?"

"That's not your neighbor's last name. How does she spell Clarke?"

"I can't stress enough how much I am not going to tell you anything about her."

"Yeah, I noticed how much you haven't been telling me anything about her. You guys are having _cooking parties_ , and I didn't know. You're stealing her mail so you can--"

"I'm not stealing her mail!" he protests, perhaps a little louder than he meant to, and he hears Clarke's soft laugh. When he whirls around again he sees her leaning in the doorway, a smile curving her lips, and he feels the flush race up his neck.

"You're not, huh?" she teases.

"O, I'll talk to you later, okay?" he says.

"I'm totally going to find her on Facebook!" she says. "Just you wait."

"Have fun with that. Say hi to Lincoln for me." He ends the call and gives Clarke a sheepish smile. "My little sister."

"Why were you telling your little sister you were stealing my mail?"

"I was actually telling my little sister I wasn't stealing your mail," he points out. He rubs the back of his neck. "But I did accidentally pick up your package."

"And my cat."

"No, I picked up your cat on purpose."

She laughs. "Well, if it was on purpose."

"Anyway, here's your package. Sorry about the repeated mail fraud."

"You were a lot more apologetic the last time," she says. "What happened to all that mortification?"

"I got to know you," he says without thinking, but to his relief, she just grins. "Also, uh, if Octavia Blake tries to friend you on Facebook, just ignore her."

"That's your sister?"

"Yeah."

"How would she find me on Facebook? You know we're not friends, right?"

"She's really determined when it comes to ruining my life."

"Just to clarify, are you telling me that being Facebook friends with me would _ruin your life_?"

"No, jesus, of course not."

Her stupid smirk is going to be the death of him, honestly. "So, do you want to be my Facebook friend?"

"Not really," he says, without thinking, and immediately realizes that that's what he said and puts his head down on the table. "Fuck. At what point do we restart this conversation?"

"Never," she says, prompt. "So, you don't want your sister to be friends with me, _you_ don't want to be friends with me--"

"I just don't care about Facebook!" he says. "And if I'm friends with you, O's definitely going to find you and stalk you." He wets his lips. "But, uh, obviously, if _you_ want to be Facebook friends, that's cool, I'll--"

"You know, I keep thinking there's going to be a point where you get less awkward," she muses. "Is that ever going to be a thing?"

"No idea," he says, with half a smile. "You'll probably notice before I do."

"Probably," she agrees. She bumps her shoulder against his. "So, what are we making tonight?"

They do stir-fry and eat it in front of the TV while the cats watch them, hoping they'll drop scraps, and he's not even a little surprised when he finally checks his email after she's gone and sees Facebook has told him he has a friend request from Clarke Griffin.

He accepts, of course, and she writes, _Thanks for reluctantly being my friend_ on his wall.

Octavia likes it immediately, but that's still not enough of a crisis to wipe the stupid smile off his face. So he might really be in trouble.

*

The new school year starts and, to his shock, immediately and hugely improves his life. Teaching means that he feels like he knows what he's doing here, even more than just being a theoretical faculty member did. He has students and grading and responsibility and office hours, and while it's stressful and strenuous, it's also what he's here for. Maybe Miller was right, and he just needs a sense of how he's supposed to be with people. Jake Griffin becomes a colleague, and he can accept that a colleague wants him to succeed.

Clarke is still kind of a giant question mark, but he's accepted that he is just bad at having crushes. And he has an absolutely gigantic crush on Clarke. It actually gets worse with school, too, because she'll stop by his office between classes to hang out, instead of going to the library, and catch rides to campus with him in bad weather, and still comes for cooking lessons in the evenings and hang out with him over the weekend.

Miller says he passed the point where he should have just asked if she wants to make out weeks ago, and he's probably right. But it's a lot easier to pick people up in a bar or party setting, when he knows everyone who's there is either looking to hook up or clearly not opposed to the idea. In the wild, as it were, Bellamy has more trouble figuring out what he's supposed to do.

He thinks he might be doing it, honestly. Which is staggering all by itself. Even if he's not dating Clarke _yet_ , it feels like he might, someday.

And then he runs into Clarke and her dad at the faculty dining hall a week into the start of class, and all of his newfound composure basically up and dies.

The thing is, he has no idea what Jake thinks his relationship with Clarke is. He has no idea if Jake is aware they got cats together, or if he knows they hang out, that Bellamy gives Clarke rides and cooking lessons, that Clarke has been showing him around town and leaving books she thinks he'll like on his coffee table.

Jake almost certainly doesn't know that Clarke grabbed Bellamy's delivery yesterday and left the box displayed prominently on her kitchen counter for him to find.

All of which really did seem fairly normal, up until he was thinking about it in the context of how it would come across to her father. And now he can't help thinking about how he has the most obvious crush of all time, and even if Jake Griffin likes him as a tenant and a person and a colleague, he can't possibly like him as a romantic prospect for Clarke. 

But Clarke has spotted him and is smiling, and he can't just not join them. Not when she looks so happy to see him.

"Hey! Dad, you remember Bellamy, right?"

"I try to keep up with all my thousands of tenants, but it can be difficult," he says, dry. "I am getting on in years." But his expression when he looks at Bellamy is open and friendly. "Good to see you again. Classes still going well?"

"Yeah, they're good, thanks. Yours?"

"Can't complain. The new crop of freshmen seem good, at least so far. How are the cats?"

"Assholes," says Clarke, before Bellamy can respond, and Jake laughs.

"Well, I don't know what you were expecting, getting cats," he teases. "That's not a bug with them, it's a feature." He turns his attention back to Bellamy. "And Clarke said you're teaching her to cook."

He doesn't choke, somehow. It's honestly sheer luck.

"Yeah," he says. "I did most of the cooking for my family growing up, so I'm used to making a lot of food. Might as well try to get Clarke more self-sufficient while I'm at it."

"You know that ordering pizza is self-sufficient, right?" Clarke asks. 

"What if all the pizza places close down? If the apocalypse comes, you're going to want to know how to cook."

"If you're trying to get me ready for the post-apocalypse, I think we should be focusing on my hunter-gatherer skills, not how to season meat."

"If you're eating squirrels, you definitely want them to taste _good_ ," he teases. "The right spice rub can do wonders."

"He's got you there, Clarke," says Jake, and Bellamy nearly startles at the reminder that they're not alone, and that he's been flirting with her in front of her dad.

But she's been flirting back, so at least there's that.

"How many times have either of you eaten squirrel?" she asks, grinning, and the tension drains out of him.

It's getting harder and harder to be nervous around Clarke for any amount of time. Which he can't say he minds in the least.

"We've never been much of a family for cooking," Jake goes on, with a friendly smile for Bellamy. "So I hope you have more luck teaching her than we did."

"You didn't even _try_ ," Clarke says, at the same time Bellamy says, "Honestly, she's doing pretty well."

Clarke beams at him with so much pride and joy that he honestly feels dazzled. "I am?"

"I still wouldn't trust you to season my squirrel meat," he says, too gruff. "But, yeah, you're not doing too badly."

Jake is smiling too, watching them with a fond expression Bellamy isn't really ready to think about. It's not as if he _needs_ Clarke's father's approval for whatever's happening here. If anything is happening at all.

But it kind of feels like everyone in the world is rooting for them. And when Clarke catches his eye and smiles, he thinks she might be rooting for them too.

*

Clarke's birthday is at the end of October, and Bellamy assumes he should be in some way involved with it.

"Wow, you sound so enthusiastic," she teases.

"I'm not exactly great with parties," he says. "Planning, whatever. But if you want me to help out, let me know. I can cook or something."

"I'm not really great with parties either," she says. "We'll do drinks with Raven and Monty and Niylah and some of my classmates on Friday, but that's all I have planned. All you have to do is show up."

"But I have to show up?" he asks, and she laughs.

"Sorry, did you _not_ want to come to my birthday party? Is that going to be an issue for you?"

"I didn't say that," he protests. "Of course I'm coming."

"Cool," she says. "Then I'm set."

He believes her, of course, and has no doubt that she'd be perfectly happy if that was the end of her birthday celebration. He knows she doesn't need him to come up with some surprise celebration or anything like that, and she wouldn't really be happy if he did. Low-key drinks with her friends are exactly her speed, and he's going to go and enjoy himself.

But at this point he's basically accepted that he is in love with this girl, and it _is_ her birthday. 

Romantic gestures are a thing, right? Maybe not a _good_ thing, but--he's kind of excited to try one out. He thinks he might be good at them.

So he goes to the drinks thing, which is fun, and lets Clarke's classmates assume he's her boyfriend, because she's drunk and draped all over him, and that is, honestly, what anyone would anyone would think, and Clarke doesn't seem to care to correct them either.

Plus, he doesn't really want to dislodge her. She smells nice.

On Sunday, they go shopping, and then she's having dinner with her mother, who's in town for the weekend, so he goes on a second, secret shopping trip and picks up stuff for a real birthday dinner, some nice steaks and fresh vegetables and everything he needs to make red velvet cake from scratch. Her actual birthday is Monday, which is a fairly light day in terms of classes for him, and he leaves campus as soon as he's done with those so he can get started on the while she isn't around.

There are a couple packages waiting for him for Amazon when he gets in, and he grabs them and puts them aside for later. Two are Clarke's birthday presents and the other is probably his subscribe and save stuff, so there's no rush. They can wait until the cake is done.

Clarke herself gets home when the cakes are cooling, and immediately comes up to his place with her cat.

"You know the entire house smells like cake, right?"

"You know it's your birthday, right?" he shoots back, and feels his smile turn a little embarrassed in spite of himself. "Hi. Happy birthday."

"Thanks. Did you bake me a cake?"

"Of course I baked you a cake. It's your birthday, Clarke. You get a cake. And a steak dinner." He clears his throat. "You, uh--you said you liked steak? And it's fancy and we haven't made it yet, so--"

She cuts him off with the press of her mouth, hard and a little off-center, not the best kiss ever, except that it's her giving it to him, and anything it lacks in skill is more than made up for with the implications.

"Sorry," she says, not sounding sorry in the least. "I just wanted to get that out of the way early."

He slides his hand into her hair, smiling when she leans into it. "Does that mean we can't do it again?" he asks. "Now that it's out of the way? Because that was pretty shitty, as kisses go."

She's already tugging him down again. "Yeah, we should keep going until we get it right."

"Yeah," he agrees, and the second kiss is a lot better, and the third, and the fourth, and once they're doing that well with it, he can't think of a single reason in the world to just _stop_.

*

When they finally do break apart, it's so Bellamy can make dinner. Clarke sort of helps, but she keeps getting distracted kissing his shoulder and nuzzling his neck and just kind of generally being tactile and perfect and absolutely his new girlfriend.

"You want to have dinner at some point, right?" he asks. "Food is good, Clarke."

"I do want to have a lot of energy for later," she teases, and he pushes her away.

"Don't say shit like that. The steak's going to get overcooked, and I sprung for good ones."

"Going all out, huh?"

"It's your birthday," he says, refusing to let himself blush. "I wanted it to be special. If I knew I just could have eaten you out and you'd be happy, I would have saved myself the money."

"I'm hoping you eating me out isn't going to just be a special birthday event," she says, innocent, and he groans and lets himself kiss her one more time, quick.

"Every day, if you want," he says. "Seriously, go grab those boxes off the coffee table. At least some of them have birthday presents for you. You can figure out which ones instead of groping me."

"Wow, fancy."

"Boxes are basically wrapping paper," he says. "Shut up."

She grabs the pile of boxes from the living room and brings them into the kitchen, sitting down on the floor so she won't get in his way. He watches with one eye as she opens up the first box, and grins at her expression as she pulls out a stuffed squirrel.

"Am I supposed to be eating this?" she asks, holding it up to her face.

"Not until the apocalypse comes. You guys can be friends until then."

"So, when the apocalypse comes you're expecting me to turn against everyone I love?"

"You're going to be desperate to survive, Clarke. It's hard to tell how we'll react to those situations. Sometimes the people you love become liabilities."

"That's a great thing to tell someone at the beginning of a relationship," she teases, and he grins.

"Well, I didn't know you were going to kiss me," he says, flashing her a grin. "I would have gotten you something less subtle."

She's got the squirrel on her shoulder as she opens up the next box. "I don't mind. Subtlety is kind of--" She cuts herself off with a laugh. "Oh fuck."

"What?"

She's biting her lip, and her cheeks are flushed. "I forgot I, um--I was kind of horny and frustrated on Friday? After we did drinks."

"Okay," he says. "And?"

"And Raven was telling me you were _so into me_ \--"

"Which I am," he points out.

She ducks her head. "I was working on it, shut up. I came up with a plan."

"Yeah?"

She pulls what appears to be a vibrator out of the box. "You were going to open this and think you accidentally stole my package again and then bring it down and we'd--" She frowns. "Honestly, I don't know what the second step of the plan was."

"I probably would have checked to make sure it was addressed to me," he points out. "So I would have known I didn't steal it."

She groans. "The gift receipt says, _Come down and help me figure this out_ , so I wasn't really _trying_ to be subtle."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I would have broken the sound barrier to get down there," he says, and she laughs.

"Yeah?"

He checks to make sure nothing is going to burn in the next thirty seconds, and once he's confident, he sits down on the floor next to Clarke, leaning over to press his lips against hers again, reveling in the fact that he can just do this. He can probably do it as often as he wants. She seems pretty excited about it too.

"Nothing says romance like inept mail fraud," he teases, and she bumps her nose against his.

"It worked on me," she points out, and he laughs.

"Lucky for me. Open your last present and toss the salad for me."

"You're not going to help me out with this?" she asks, holding up the vibrator.

"Absolutely. Like you said, we need a lot of energy for later, right?"

Her grin turns absolutely wicked. "Yeah," she says. "I have big plans for you."

"I have big plans too. Mine involve cake, so--"

"Yeah, best boyfriend ever," she says, and his whole chest feels lit up, like he might burst with pride. "I'll get the salad."

And after, once they've had food and cake and made out on the couch until they've digested enough to break in her new vibrator and he's gotten her off until she's half unconscious, she burrows into his side and noses his neck.

"Still the best boyfriend ever?" he asks. He might be a little smug, but he thinks he's earned it.

"Best boyfriend, best birthday," she agrees. "Best."

"Awesome," he says, and kisses her hair. "Goodnight, Clarke."

"Best night," she murmurs, already half asleep, and Bellamy can't disagree.

*

As it turns out, there's something more than a little bit awkward about figuring out how to move in with someone you already sort of live with. By the time Bellamy's lease is coming up for review, he and Clarke are sleeping together every night, but they'll switch between his bed and hers based on mood, and their stuff is strewn across two apartments. On the one hand, it feels like a total waste of money to keep on renting both floors of the house, when they could fit into one, and the part of Bellamy that's still convinced he'll wake up jobless and impoverished any day now tells him that they could be saving so much more.

And it's not like he doesn't _want_ to live with Clarke. He'd love for them to just have _their_ bedroom. But in his mind, _their_ bedroom would be in _their_ house, and the idea of other people coming into _their_ house and living on the floor they don't use is surprisingly upsetting. They've been doing work in the garden, and the cats are used to having the whole place to themselves. If someone else moved into the other unit, the cats would be miserable and scratching at the doors all the time.

The logical part of his brain still feels, very strongly, that he should be asking Clarke about moving in together. She's rich; she doesn't think about these things. It's his job.

So, once she's done with school, in the week between graduation and her starting her new job at the college museum, he says, "So, uh, my lease."

"Oh, yeah," she says, like she's been meaning to have the same conversation with him. Which maybe she has been. They've both been busy with the end of the semester; she probably hasn't had any more time and brain power for this than he has. "We should just talk to my dad, he'll definitely reduce the rent."

He blinks. "What?"

"It's not like he really needs the money, and I know you're worried about keeping both places--"

"You do?" he asks. She cocks her head, and he flushes. "I hadn't told you."

"You're Bellamy, of course you're worried," she says, like it's obvious. "And I know we don't really _need_ the space, but--" It's her turn to flush. "You're tenure-track, I've got a great job, we like it here, and, um--honestly, my dad already said he was planning to give us the deed as a wedding present, so I'm pretty sure he's not worried about how much we're paying him now. You should be on the friends and family rate."

"He said that?" Bellamy asks. It's not like he hasn't thought about marrying Clarke. He's absolutely planning to marry her. It's not even the first time they've talked about it, as a potential future event. The faculty health insurance is a lot better than the museum one; he wants her on that. But, as always, he can't quite believe Jake is cool with it. "Are you sure he isn't running a long con to get my organs?"

"The only Griffin interested in getting any of your organs is me," she teases. "And I only want one of them."

He snorts. "Classy."

"I try." She gives him a kiss. "Seriously, I like it here. This is our home, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, yeah. We can talk to my dad, see about getting a deal on the rent, save a little money. Unless you want to find a new place or a roommate."

He's trying to convince Miller to move down here at some point, as the first step of his plan to set him up with Monty, but he doesn't think Miller wants to live with them. No one should really live with them, if he's honest. 

Like Clarke said, this is their home.

"I like it here," he admits, and it still doesn't feel quite real, sometimes. He still expects to wake up in some shitty apartment in the city, worried about where his next meal is going to come from. Not always, but moments like this, he's still expecting someone to tell him he isn't allowed to be here. Someone is going to dash

"I like it here too," she says. "So, let's stay, right?"

"Yeah," he says. "Let's stay."

And they do.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% a "Chash makes Bellamy do awkward things she personally has done fic." In this case, I was definitely super awkward about stealing my neighbors' mail, and also when my now-girlfriend asked if I wanted to be Facebook friends with her, I honestly did say "not really." Which I will never live down, nor should I.


End file.
